


A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

by Chinitoblanco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Child Abuse, Cinderella Elements, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole, F/M, Gen, Glass Slippers (Cinderella), M/M, Male Cinderella, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Not Epilogue Compliant, Revisionist Fairy Tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chinitoblanco/pseuds/Chinitoblanco
Summary: A royal invitation was sent and Harry is invited. But his evilly sadistic uncle beat him to stop the young man from attending. Who would think that one wish from a long-lost dogfather and an abandoned glass shoe would completely change his life forever?
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 19





	1. Bibidi-Bobbidi-Boo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dog, The House, and The Pumpkin,

Vernon grabbed the boy by the hem of his shirt. Poor Harry, mewling in pain when the larger man pulled him up close. He was spitting a mouthful of threatening words into his face, growling, “listen here, boy. Any funny business… anything at all, and you’ll regret every single day your parents left you here to turn our lives into a living nightmare! You wouldn't like it. I’ll make sure of it. Do you understand me, you freak?”

The raven-haired young lad nodded obediently. Vernon basked in delight when he saw fear ruminating in his gazes. He lifted a foot to push the man into the dirt. Harry looked at himself mournfully. His clothes ruined. He sported a bruise on his left cheek, a small cut could be seen screaming beneath his lower lip.

“Lock the gates as soon as we take our leave.” His uncle ordered, releasing him. Straightening himself, he motioned to his son, Dudley who was standing next to the carriage. He was waiting for him to deal with their ‘nasty little problem’ really quickly.

“Hurry up, Dad! We’ll be late!” His cousin resembling a dolphin starts to wail, stomping his feet. His mother, Petunia is already on board who had her lips pursed the whole time she witnessed her own nephew beaten to the pulp.

Worn and tattered, Harry could only watch the family leave the manor. The sound of wheels rolled and the clopping of hooves fainted as the horse-drawn vehicle had gone into the clearing.

The boy looked down. The dress robes he spent the whole day mending was badly torn apart. It was an old set of Napoleons that consisted of a sky-blue cloak, a waistcoat underneath, and a lovely pair of ivory breeches. It once belonged to his father which he found carefully folded inside a chest while cleaning the attic. In Harry’s eyes, it was the most beautiful dress robes he’d ever seen in his life. The ravened hair found it quite amusing how impeccable the timing was to discover one of his parent’s heirlooms the same day the Royal Ball was announced. He only needed to add a few trinkets on it so it wouldn’t look past behind the latest trend.

He wanted to go so badly. All Harry wished for is to see his friend, Charlie. The queen has sent invitations to every eligible men and women in the kingdom in favor of her second oldest son. The function will give the prince the opportunity to choose his future wife or husband. Everyone is invited with no exceptions. That includes him, Harry, of course: a servant... a commoner… a nobody whatsoever. In fact, he received his own letter from the palace ordering his attendance, had it not been ripped by his furious uncle to shreds hounding him with more household chores as punishment.

Hedwig flew from a nearby tree and landed on his shoulder to comfort her friend. The snowy-white owl hooted showing her sympathy by nipping his ear in an affectionate manner.

“It’s okay, girl. It’s just a bruise.” Harry forced a smile, though it looked somewhat bitter before the bird’s heedful eyes. It was nothing compared to the bruises and marks he took every day from his sadistic uncle. “It’s my fault, anyway. I was persistent.” He admitted. “I was adamant with my hopes to see Charlie in the palace.”

Well, why not? It was Charlie who personally asked him to go to the ball and all that. “It’ll be boring.” He confided to him once with distaste. They spent the last few days riding horses together across the field. Charlie complained about his mum’s gerrymandering while Harry just sat there, listening to him as both boys decided to dawdle by the lake. “Don’t worry. We can spend all night touring the place. I’ll show you those rooms with some weird stuff in them and also the library. It has tons of books in them, you’ll never get bored there!” He remembered him talking about it dramatically with his arms spread wide open, eyes focused intently at Harry.

“Yeah, it would’ve been nice to hang about with Charlie tonight.” He scowled. Fat tears began to rim at the corner of his eyes. Harry wrapped his thin arms around his legs and rested his head on his knees. “I should’ve expected the whole thing to be just a part of a silly dream,” he sniffed. Vernon’s words remained clear in his reminiscence.

 _“Filths like you don’t have a right to seek audience before the king.”_ The man blabbered loudly in his ears. _“They don’t want a rat to roam around the palace. So shameless of you to even consider it, you uselessly delusional little brat!”_

Harry’s snivels turned into sobs. He could feel the manor’s little occupants condoling his sorrows. The boy spent a few minutes weeping, sprawling woefully on muddy earth with those worn clothes and battered shoes he was wearing sagging underneath him.

Suddenly, his attention was caught by a faint whimpering noise coming from the hedges. He knew it wasn’t him. He would’ve known if he did, _thank you very much_. More like it belonged to a dog, an injured one. Harry stopped crying to listen carefully to the sound of mewling who disrupted his moment lamenting over his miseries.

The raven-haired guy looked up. He sharpened his senses to see where the noise had come from. He’s almost sure it was badly hurt, judging the way it cried for help. His legs are still shaking and yet, Harry stood up and followed the trace of its yawling.

There… he saw it. A large figure of a dog, crouched beneath a bush. Its black fur was thin and clung to his frame like a windbreaker in a gale. Even from several yards away, Harry could count his ribs. His movements were faltering sort of each stir pained him and his head was sunk low to the ground. Those hazel eyes that should be scanning for danger or opportunities to eat never rose from the baked mud. After that, just a few moments later, he tumbled on his feet as if he meant to lie down but couldn't coordinate his limbs. Finally, with his pitch-dark head on his paws, he closed his eyes in the agony of his turmoil.

“Hey there, little fella.” The young man peered worriedly at its paw. “You poor thing.” He mewed. It was caught by one of those coyote-traps his Uncle Vernon had planted in the surrounding area.

The wounded dog looked up to him beady eyed. His painful cries broke his heart. Harry crept closer so he could examine the rusty iron that gnawed his other foot. “Let’s get this thing out of your paws.” He cooed in a comforting note. “I’ll get something to unlock it for you. I’ll be right back, okay?” he darted his gaze directly to the black canine’s eyes who met his gaze apparently trusting him to keep his promise.

Harry abruptly stood and headed for the tool shed. It didn’t take him more than five minutes to return with a small box in one hand. He took a rod-shaped piece of metal out of it which is the same tool he used each time these evil snares fell prey to their victims.

“There. You can move freely now.” He heaved a small smile despite the fresh tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. Harry carefully lifted him up so he can walk on his own despite the dog’s limping condition. “Let’s patch up your leg so as not to worsen the wound.” He murmured gesturing the mongrel to follow him to a nearby stall.

The unexpected guest watch in awe while it let Harry do all the work. He pulled a long lace of bandages and wrapped it to the injured paw, but not before applying a generous amount of salve to hasten the healing cycle.

“You should be fine now.” His beams gleaming reassurance.

The dog yipped. It sounded like he was happy from the treatment he had received, _or maybe he wants to play_ , that’s what Harry thought at least.

“Don’t mention it. T’ was nothing.” He brandished a hand comically. The young man looked into his eyes and noticed an aura imposing inevitable argument. He smirked at him menacingly with a high tone of amusement.

**_“It was nothing, alright. That’s what they always say.”_ **

_Wait…_ Harry’s face snapped back. He looked horrified. “E - excuse me?” He spluttered in surprise.

_Great!_

Uncle Vernon’s knuckles must’ve reached into his head. Now, he’s imagining the dog just talked to him – for heaven’s sake!

And then, it happened. Before the boy could deem himself for losing it, the craziest thing in Harry’s life took place. The gigantic dog grew at an enormous state. His height tripled, well, it may only be double knowing a dog looked shorter when standing on fours. His matte of a fur on the upper portion of his head lengthened while his middle broadened to form a wide breadth of shoulders. The thick black fluff shortened as it turned into battered fabric and for some reason, Harry realized, it was a trench coat he was actually wearing. The boy got lost for words. What was once an injured grim was replaced by a full-grown man sitting on the bench – legs crossed, face darted toward him sporting a playful smirk.

“Helping a trapped old dog is nothing.” The mutt – or the person – whatever he was, drawled. His eyes rolling, he added, “nothing… indeed, nothing… but kindness is everything.” He said reprovingly. The stranger’s grin stretched erroneously ignoring the boy’s frightened wimbling next to him.

Harry was speechless despite the grateful smile he was given. He slowly dragged his neck back to face the other guy. He took a glance into his eyes as if he was staring right through his soul. Moments later, his mouth quivered mumbling gibberish words.

“Honestly, Harry. If you won’t budge an ounce, you’ll be late for the ball,” he droned, causing the young man’s eyes to bulge.

Harry froze. “Who… who are you? How did you know my name?” He hadn’t noticed his voice trembling in fear.

The dog-stranger snorted and smirked. He cackled, “who am I?” He straightened his back gawping at the child. “I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

“Sorry.” Harry’s head tilted in shame. He knew it’s his fault for being stupid. He didn’t mean it but it’s just the way it is.

“Don’t fret, godson of mine.” The person’s voice sounded nicer this time. “Sirius Black, at your service. Lord to the most ancient house of Blacks and Slytherins. Harry, dear, I’m your hairy dogfather, do you know what that means?”

The brunet’s face paled. His lips faltered. “I’m – I’m your what?” He asked him again.

“Sorry about that… what I meant to say was, I’m your godfather, young man.” He corrected.

A small chuckle made its escape. Harry shook his head, frankly disheartened, “you can’t be…” he mused with bitterness plaquing his lips.

“Why not?” the man called Sirius frowned after hearing him say it.

“Because they don’t exist?” He imposed dejectedly.

The older guy’s brows creased. “Why wouldn’t they? Of course, everyone has their own godfathers to think.”

“Except for me, though.” Harry said matter-of-factly. His eyes emitted sadness in it. His so-called relatives shoved that fact over and over since he was a kid. He had no parents. No friends. No family whatsoever.

“Bollocks, Harry. Don’t be ridiculous.” The long-haired man groaned, grumbling about lowly abusive people. He stood up from the bench. Harry jumped beside him. “Come. We don’t have much time. Let’s get you fixed – oh!” He croaked at the sight of his own attire. Sirius looked like he hadn’t bathed for ages. “Let me slip into something more comfortable, first.” The man pulled out an object from the sleeve of his coat that seemed like a wand, he’d reckon.

Harry’s eyes dilated when he saw shimmering sparks come right out of the enchanted stick. A swish and a flick and Sirius looked different. His hair was tidier. Prominent curls twirled its ends. His trench coat turned to silvery white with glowing mist on the edges. Who would’ve thought the once shabby old man can look twenty years younger in a bat of an eyelash? Well, Sirius did it with magic in one snap!

“That’s better.” He smiled. Smugly satisfied.

“You can do magic?!” Harry gasped.

“Why? I do!” Sirius piped like it’s the most normal thing to do. “Let’s see... over here.” He motioned the boy to follow him to a patch of veggies. Tapping a finger on his chin, he pondered, “what we need is something that says, ‘coach’ in it,” trying to think of more or less coach-worthy in his brains.

“Oh, how about that trough?” Harry pointed at a large wooden box.

“Doesn’t sound much like it, is it?” His godfather’s comment didn’t sound much too offending. They headed for the orchard catching sight of every plant sprouting across the yard. “No, no, I’d prefer fruit and veg. Do you grow watermelons?” He queried.

“No.”

“Cantaloupe?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Artichoke?”

“What’s that?”

“Kumquat?”

“Huh???”

“Beef tomato?”

_Uuuurgh! For crying out loud!!!_

He had no idea what he’s talking all about.

His face schooled that tone of remarkable ignorance. Harry didn’t want to sound disrespectful, but… did he say he was a wizard? “We do have pumpkins,” he offered as quick as he can. He was hoping that would work since it’s the only thing he could find available.

“Ah…” the man considered it for a while though, “pumpkins, huh...” he murmured. Sirius gaped at Harry almost as though an extra head sprang out of his skull. “Well, I suppose. This will be a first for me.” He choked nervously. “Bloody interesting pumpkins, aren’t they?”

He trotted behind the boy who led the way to the green-house. It was mainly circular with its walls made of glass. There are numerous plants growing inside it, from fruits to vegetables of different shapes and sizes. Sirius blabbered indistinctive phrases. “I must confess, Harry. I don’t really work well with squashes.” He admitted. “They’re too mushy and ew! Bloody disgusting things, if you’d ask me.” He wailed.

Howbeit and all that, the long-haired wizard gushed at the sight of the gigantic cucurbit lying in a corner. It looked bigger than what he knew a normal size would’ve accepted. “Wow. That’s enormous, isn’t it?” He marveled.

Harry nodded.

“Do you have a knife?”

“Here,” the boy rolled his eyes. Would it be easier if he cut it with magic?

“Thanks, Bambi.”

 _Bambi???_ Where on earth did he come up with such names?

“It’s an endearment.” Sirius winked. “You won’t understand, no matter how I explain it to you anyway.” He handed him over his wand emitting glittering sparks on its tip. Harry held it carefully as if it’s about to explode in his grip. “Hello, my strangely orange vegetable friend.” The man-hound cooed at it like a pig he’s supposed to butcher. He took the knife and slid it through the tip slicing the pumpkin off of its twig. “Merlin! You’re heavy.” He growled as he lifted it in his arms and carried it to the center.

Sirius took some time to rest a bit, catching his breath, panting. He looked as if he never carried anything that heavy being used to magic. “We’re supposed to take this thing outside but… oh, well. We can do it here now.” He decided in an instant.

“Do what?”

His dogfather gawped, “turn the pumpkin into a carriage!” What else should they be doing, huh?

“Oh,” He didn’t know that, _sorry!_

Sirius watched whilst observing the gourd for an ample time. Heaving a sigh, he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Merlin! This is making me nervous.”

Harry was tensed. “Should I shut my eyes?” He offered.

“N – yeah, it may be better.” He thought an audience could add to the pressure at any point.

The man whispered some words he can barely understand. Harry anxiously shoved his face into his hands.

“Urgh! For Mordred’s sake! Let’s just go with it.” An exasperated Sirius Black flicked his wand and a spark went straight into the gourd. It jerked and quivered and then suddenly, it glowed. “Hmm… Something is definitely happening, I’m sure… but the trick is…” he scowled, trying to remember that **_something_** he just mentioned. “You know what? I don’t even know what the trick is.” He blanched, terrified over the fact.

“Isn’t it supposed to grow bigger and bigger?” Harry pointed out witnessing the obvious transformation going on in their front.

Slowly, the pumpkin swelled until it almost filled the whole chamber. Sirius cheered, “hey! You’re right. That’s it, but…” _Wait a minute_ , that just sank in. Realization kicking in, Sirius leapt off his feet and pushed his godson out of the greenery. “RUN! Bambi, take cover!!!” He yelled in panic as he and Harry stormed outside before the growing pumpkin squishes them to pieces.

Both men fled as fast as they can as the glass chamber behind them surged enormously, showing signs of bursting any minute shortly. They headed for the ledge in search for a place to shield themselves from flying unwanted stray fragments in a few moments.

Just in time, the circular building burst into shards. Sparks of light blended along with the rubbles as magic lifted everything in the air. A gigantic column appeared twisting what remained of the house and the vegetables growing inside it violently. The swirling continued at a rotating pace until finally, with another burst, the shards reassembled. It looked like a fast-forwarded version of a structure being built as metals and glass rearranged themselves on top of a strangely circular framework.

Silence filled the air. Once the chaos died down, they came out slowly from their hiding place. What Harry saw marveled his gaze. A silvery white carriage gilded with gold stood magnificently before him. The main coach taking the shape of a sphere. For some time, Harry thought it certainly looked like a pumpkin. Only that it’s perfectly white instead of a dull pint of orange. Its base shone so brightly that it practically glowed. Harry never saw anything as majestic – He would’ve known! Not even the royal carriages the palace owned.

“It’s beautiful.” He gasped in awe.

“I thought you ought to know, I don’t go about transfiguring pumpkins just for anybody, oi!” Sirius cheeped smugly at the boy.

Harry just nodded, teary eyed. He couldn’t keep his glances away from the magically built vehicle. He looked mystified. At that point, he realized, this man didn't toy with him since the first he had met him. He was serious when he told him he'll make it to the ball and enjoy the evening. Why? Of course, he is Sirius! Nonetheless, be that as it may, he wasn’t just his hairy dogfather of al things. _In fact,_ He’s his fairly magical godfather! The one his parents trusted to look after their kid. And that’s for real. This time, he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

“Now, we need something to run that thing.” The man paces back and forth – once again, panicking. Of course, Harry thought it was ridiculous but he wouldn’t welcome the idea of a carriage moving around on its own. “At least three or four horses.” He grumbled. “Yes, that should fit, uh-huh… Footmen! Definitely and a coachman… right. Perfect!” Satisfied with his plans, Sirius clapped both his hands. He told Harry, “Now, first, let me concentrate. This is a complicated incantation I haven’t perfected yet.”

The boy stepped back and held a deep breath. He didn’t want to be the cause of the spell messing up. Flicking his wand, clearing his throat, music began to play in tune. He realized, all long, Sirius is about to sing a song.

“Key of ‘C’, please.” He spoke to an invisible band and the key was raised a little higher. “That’s better.” He sounded happier. “Now, let’s begin… in one, two, three.”

A classical polka was played in the background. He sang a few notes brandishing his wand.

_“Salagadoola mechicka boola, Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo… Put them together and what have you got? Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!”_

One detailed swish and sparks came out chasing a bunch of mice who’re snooping around. A crack followed and the mice turned into white stallions. Four beautiful mares with silvery hues stood handsomely with hooves made of gold. The mice – turned into lovely horses pranced elegantly toward the carriage. Bright pink ostrich feathers ornated their heads.

_“Salagadoola mechicka boola, Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo… It'll do magic, believe it or not, Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo…_

_“Now, salagadoola meens and mechicka booleroo but the thingamabob that does the job is bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!”_

Two more sparks spew out and about and hit two lizards lazing on the nearby pond. They tried to flee but failed to escape and the next thing they knew, two footmen with lavish coat of emerald green stood wobbly on their feet. Sirius flashed a feral grin who looked extremely proud of his work. He went on casting the spell and hollered…

_“Oh, salagadoola (de-digga-doo-da), Mechicka boola (doodle-dee-doo-da), Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo… (daddle-dee-doodle-dee-doo) Put 'em together and what have you got…? Bibbidi-bobbidi – BOO!!!”_

The last spark hit Mister Goosey traipsing his way to the docks. He seemed oblivious to everything going on in his surroundings. His face blotted a flash of bewilderment from the moment he realized his webbed feet grew into legs and his wings have turned into a pair of hands. He whirled around him squawking when he saw himself stationing the driver’s seat clutching the reins ignorantly. Harry was sure he heard the transfigured bird grumbling about getting dragged into a mess he wasn’t involved, to begin with. The young man could only regard him apologetically and swore compensation once their job is done for the evening.

Finally, the entourage is complete. Sirius began barking orders pushing them to their designated places. Harry thought he’s organizing things and hadn’t completely forgotten that his dress coat – used to be a decent set of clothes until his Uncle Vernon almost yanked them to destruction. Now, it’s way far appropriate to suit the occasion. But when his godfather shoved the boy into the carriage, Harry blurted out in panic, “Sirius…”

“Yes, what?”

The young man stuck his lower lip to indicate his ravaged attire. He prattled with crimsoned ears, averting his gaze away, muttering shyly, “my clothes. Err… I can’t go to the ball with these clothes on.” That sadness reflecting in his eyes nearly broke his godfather’s heart. “Can you mend it?” he asked.

Sirius squawked. He remembered it now. The wizard gave that same set of dress coats to his father on his first night out. A twinkle of pride shone on his face. “Mend it? Why bother? I can turn it into something new. That would be easier.” He offered.

“Oh, no. please, don’t.” Harry’s voice was pleading. “This was my Dad’s and… and I’d like to wear it when I go to the palace.” The boy said with pure love in his eyes. Harry thought wearing something that belonged to them would make it feel like he’s going to the ball with at least one of his parents. They will be his escorts for tonight’s event.

Touched, proud, the man nodded his approval. “I understand.” No matter what, there’s this trouble in his mind itching to make a few changes to the design. “Uhm… do you mind if I gee it up a bit? Sky Blue is getting less popular nowadays, you know.” He cringed.

Harry shook his head, smiling. “No.”

“Excellent.” Sirius twittered. He waved his wand. Neon butterflies fluttered from the tip this time. They hovered around the boy in a dancing phase, leaving golden threads behind their traces. Soon, the Sky Blue shone bright and magically turned into Bluish midnight. The threads wrapped and spread into a cape as it covered the layers of Harry’s coat like velvet. The edges on the back lengthened a few inches resembling a shorter version of a tailcoat. Threads of gold floated in midair as they slid themselves in and out of the precious fabric until all ripped surfaces vanished. Now, his coat looked sort of it was newly tailored. Fine, soft, and free from blemishes. Sparks of light turned into golden strings which adorned his coat with intricately embroidered silk.

Meanwhile, the white pair of trousers he could barely recognize materialized into a pitch of ebony black. The remarkable contrast brought out the color of his eyes, an exquisite pair of emeralds, much to the man’s shock.

“It’s wonderful.” Harry whirled around while staring at himself in the mirror. “Mum and Dad’s gonna love it!” He beamed happily. With this brand-new set of clothes, he felt more confident. Just exactly what he needed once he showed up to the event.

“You look absolutely stunning, Harry,” Sirius took a moment to daze lovingly at the kid, but remembering the limited time they only have left, he rushed them all to move as fast as they can. “Now, come on. Off you go. Quick! Or you’ll be late.”

Harry’s cortege assembled in front of the Carriage. The two coachmen stood on opposite ends, waiting for him to ascend the steps.

“Blimey! Just a moment, Harry.” Sirius pointed his wand at his shoes. Shocked to see the worn-out pair of tattered footwear with its front slightly opened showing the tip of his toes. “Are those the best that you have?”

Harry shrugged. These are the _only_ ones he has.

“That’ll ruin the whole look,” he tutted. “Now, take them off.” Sirius urged. Harry complied who remained confused. “Let’s have something new for a change, shall we? Here. You can have these.”

Harry’s feet glowed and a pair of Oxford shoes appeared. It was sleek black. So shiny, he could see his reflection gleaming on the surface. The elegant footwear matched perfectly to the entire outfit revealing the handsomeness that was once hidden by those cuts and bruises he had gotten from his uncle’s beatings.

The young man gawped when he realized what made it look strange, “they’re… they’re made of glass?” He wondered, turning to his godfather in amazement.

“Obsidian glass. A rare variety of crystalized mineral. It doesn’t break.” Sirius grinned smugly. “And you’ll find that they’re pretty comfortable to wear.”

They are, indeed. Like they were perfectly made to match his feet.

Finally, Sirius’ face looks stern. “Harry, you really must go now.” He’s been telling him that over and over.

“Oh, godfather, Sirius?”

“What is it?”

“My… my uncle and aunt…” He looked frightened when he remembered their presence in the palace.

Sirius’s musings reassured him he has taken care of it. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t recognize you.” He promised. One more flick of his wand and a shimmer of gold surrounded Harry for the last time. “Off you go, lad. For you are and you shall be going to the ball.” Says the old mutt.

Harry’s smile was indescribable. He gave the man one last grateful nod and climbed into the coach hastily. He settled himself well while the doors were closed behind him. The boy looked up and from the window, Sirius face popped up surprisingly.

“Now, remember this very carefully, Harry.” He warned him. “The magic will only last so long until the last echo of the last bell at the last stroke of midnight. After that, the spell will be broken, and all will return to the way they were.”

The raven beamed. Unfazed. “Midnight?” He repeated.

“Midnight.”

“That’s more than enough time.” It’s more than he could’ve asked.

Sirius grinned at the boy with pride. “Go now. Enjoy the night.”

“Thank you...”

The reins were pulled and the man-hound stood back. Harry stuck his head out of the window and wave his hand. “Goodbye, godfather Sirius! I hope to see you again soon!”

Sirius waved back. _Goodbye, Harry. And good luck._

In a crack, he was gone and the entire place turned dark as it was in the past hour.

-·-


	2. A Reluctant Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince wishes he was somewhere else other than staying at the ball.

It has been a terribly busy day at the palace. The moment the sun had set, the main gates were opened to welcome the arrival of the first guest. Hundreds of carriages entered the grounds to drop their loads of fairly-looking lasses and lads. All are eager to see the royal bachelor bearing the hope to capture his heart.

The queen’s plans to deliver the invitations was a success. About five hundred thousand mails were sent throughout the kingdom that went far beyond the bordering plains.

Without a doubt, every eligible royalty from their friendly neighbors took the great chance. While most young men and women were there to fulfill their dreams, others find it a good way of strengthening political alliances.

As such, it didn’t come as a surprise to see envoys from different countries showing up with their heirs and heiresses to seek audience before the king and the royal heir himself.

“Princess Anna of the Romanov Empire!!!”

“Earl Edward IV of Wessex!!!”

“Count Nicholas X of Prussia!!!”

“Lord Velmont of Bavaria!!!”

“Prince Lee Zhang of Shu-han!!!”

“Lady Vajparaj of Ayutthaya!”

The heralds are screaming names after names of guests as they were introduced before the sovereign family. The night has just started but the halls are already crammed. They wait for their turn to greet the king and queen and thereupon, make a good impression before the prince standing irritatingly next to them.

Charles Prewett Weasley II, or _just_ Charlie as he would prefer it to be called doesn’t seem that ‘happy’ to be there at all. His face makes a kind of reaction that says he would rather be elsewhere than being ogled at in that awfully blasted ball.

The second oldest son of King Arthur and Queen Margaret is regarded the most mysterious amongst the others. An enigma. That is how they described him in every songs and books written by scribes and poets in his honor.

His ambiguity attracted delegates from faraway lands who didn’t hold back in offering the best of their gifts to showcase their wealth and vaunt on their worth as the highest potential suitor a mighty kingdom could hope for.

Well, at least, that was how his older brother explained it to him when he got curious to hear a few strange names and places mentioned he had never heard before.

“Of course, dear little brother. This will be the first betrothal party that’s been held in the last five hundred years.” William, more known as ‘Bill’, humored him with that knowledge. The man agreed to help in welcoming their foreign visitors who had spent an ample time studying abroad when he was a teenager. Add it to the fact that he’s also worried about the younger guy who seemed uncomfortable since the party began.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember it now.” He replied, rolling his eyes. “You were engaged to Fleur since you were nine.”

Bill raised his hands defensively in return, “Oi! Don’t make it sound like it’s bad. We’ve been friends since we were little, come on... Fine, we have our ups-and-downs every now and then but at the end of the day, I knew we were meant for each other. That won’t change.” He says with sheer pride on his face.

“What a sap,” Charlie pretended to show his disgust over his brother talking romantically about his wife. Though to be completely honest, he couldn’t help but feel jealous. He’s a friendly type of a person but he didn’t have the chance to grow up together with a childhood friend the way Bill and Fleur did. For various reasons including his outgoing personality. Charlie Weasley is a man who seeks adventure the way a hunter chases a deer. It was one of those things that held him back from getting himself involved with anyone yet. No boy or girl on their sound mind would want to be with someone as odd and as freaky as Charles Prewett Weasley. He’s sure of it.

“I wonder how long till they finish calling all those names.” The young man complained. He’s been standing on the dais for hours now and he could feel his legs are in pain.

“You’ve been asking me that same question over and over again.” Bill remarked. “Come on, relax.” He tried to ease the tension by teasing him to the gut. “You’ll only experience this once. Why not make the most out of it? Just enjoy the party, mate. Besides, like it or not, you have to learn to mingle with these people. That’s your job.” His brother pointed out after speaking in Arabic with a lingering sultan.

“Wait, I do mingle with people!” Charlie defended himself.

“Really? Hmm… let me think.” Bill acted like he’s pondering deeply. “Your friends – are horses, cattle, sheep, and wild beasts?”

“Hey! They’re very good friends!” He argued. “And I’ve got human friends too!” He was forced to lower his voice after catching sight of their old aunt, the Grand Duchess Dowager Muriel eyeing them like a hawk.

“Whatever, Charlie boy.”

The younger man folded his arms. Sporting a pout. “I don’t think I’d ever see the day I would enjoy attending parties like these.” He muttered. Charlie is never the type who’s fond of these lavish gatherings.

“I know, brother o’ mine.” Bill smiled. “Among us all, you’re the anti-social.” Yup, he knows him well, alright. He’s the one closest to Charlie that is why. Maybe because of the short age gap between them both that they managed to form a bond as the best of friends apart from being brothers.

Charlie held out a sigh. He doesn’t feel comfortable wearing expensive clothes clanging with shiny metals exposing his ranks. Then there’s the calculated movements and restrained conversations he hated the most when interacting with people he couldn’t fathom whether they’re friend or a foe.

Nope. Charlie is definitely not that type of a person.

He would rather roll on the dirt than sit on a couch upholstered in velvet talking about boring stuff whatsoever. He would rather enjoy sleeping in a tent under the starry night sky camping by the hillside with his horse than spend the night in his bedroom surrounded by cushions embroidered with gold. He would prefer going out hunting or fishing while feasting on the meals of the day’s hunt along with his henchmen singing stupid songs, they even have no idea what they meant.

Yeah, that and live a simple life with simple people in a perfect world.

Well, at some point, he’s proud to say he did make a good effort. Charlie tried to hang out with some of the guests but he couldn’t find anyone he enjoyed having a conversation with. None of them can relate to the excitement of swimming or cliff-jumping or wrestling or even deer-hunting.

_Sigh…_

It added to his frustration this strange longing to see the little kid. The only person he invited to join him for the evening. Ooh! He’s so excited to escape that room and drag him about to show him the secret passages he had discovered when he was a boy. Then, they can play some pranks together on a random guest and then laugh their arses thereafter to their heart’s content.

Charlie stared dejectedly at the door. He’s still hoping the boy will show up though. He could imagine him waddling, complaining about itching old worn clothes he found from a hidden chest in the attic. Most of all, Charlie imagines his big doe eyes of emerald green that can surpass the most expensive jewelries anyone has worn in the party.

He recalled the day he mentioned it casually in one of their meetings. The boy just shrugged it off and didn’t make much of a big deal out of it.

“I dunno… we’ll see,” he rustled. A few months of being friends with the kid, Charlie learned not to dwell too much on inquiries. He’s not even sure whether he meant ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or he’ll leave it to fate and they’ll take it from there. Whatever it takes.

“s’alright, mate. No pressure. You have to calm down.” Bill’s comforting words broke him out of his trance. “Like what mum said, take your time but don’t hold back. Open up your heart a little bit. Who knows? He or she may be out there waiting for you to notice.”

Charlie scowled. He had his doubts. The man has sharp eyes in the outset. If there’s anyone in the room that had caught his interest, he would’ve had run to that person and grabbed the first chance he could get.

He drew a deep breath. His mother dropped by earlier to know if he’s okay with a quick reminder of their little ‘agreement’. She’ll allow her son to choose whomever he wanted to marry provided he needs to be engaged before the end of the year.

“You’re of age to be wed, young man.” Molly told him the last time. “It’ll only be a year before Percy will have his turn. Or else, the royal courthouse will take that decision on their own.” She threw a pregnant look at the third young prince who suddenly turned green after hearing the warning.

Charlie reluctantly nodded but insisted he wouldn’t be dancing with anyone tonight until he’d find the right person he can ask to go out on a date with, thus, resulting in his eventual marriage.

The queen didn’t say anything but explained with all love and care that she’s giving him a chance to follow his heart in contrast to the limitations the law demands.

Well, in the end, his mother agreed to be more patient. After all, it wasn’t that long since the ball had started. A lot of possibilities are yet to happen.

Charlie’s main concern are those mentally obsessed fans who could’ve pulled on their sleeves the most desperate of acts. Whereby the palace resorted to heighten security protocols. Bill even offered to stay on guard as a precaution. The heir apparent sought for Kingsley’s help, the two brother’s most trusted advisor who can make sure no one would dare stick their toe out of the curb.

-·-

Sometime later, Percy steps forward to introduce an acquaintance – the Grand Duke of Serbia. He was a diplomat working with the third Weasley prince in the international relations _blah blah blah_ that bored the young man to boot. Charlie admitted, the guy had the looks. He’s tall and well-built with a great physique and quite intelligent too. More so, he’s of nobility, not that he would give a shite about it.

The problem is… he wouldn’t fit.

His brother’s pleas was the ticket to convince him to talk to the guy. Of course, they have to stay right there on the dais. He couldn’t drag him out to go somewhere private. It wouldn’t be fair to the others, would it?

 _Bollocks_. Charlie wasn’t simply interested.

At first, he was admittedly impressed. The man looks like he’s the gods’ gift in bed which thrilled him, to be honest. But then again, as their conversation progressed, Charlie shook his head. No longer than five minutes and he knew he wouldn’t like the git. He’s a city type of a person who loves opera and expensive dinners. Charlie loves travelling a lot but he would prefer the country side. The man was taken aback when the royal prince asked him what beautiful things his country could offer outside the capital and he couldn’t name him even one.

He was disappointed. Serbia is a very beautiful country in the southeastern continent and has one of the friendliest people he had ever met. Charlie felt bad that even these noblemen have little to no knowledge of their homeland and the people who looked up to them with the highest form of respect.

Ten minutes later, the man gave up and went to look for someone else to talk to among the crowd.

Charlie felt a bit better after that.

-·-

Shortly thereafter, he was accosted by the infamous Countess Lestrange – Bellatrix? Was that her name? She’s the widow of a tyrant and Charlie heard a lot of things about the woman.

She made a few talks and some not-so-subtle comments about settling down and all that, describing what type of a man she was searching in a husband which coincidentally matched Charlie’s persona. In addition, even the shape and tone of his bum coincided with her description. It would’ve been easier if she’d just mentioned his name but he meant to keep it that way just to be safe.

Charlie didn’t like how her eyes twinkle seductively nor her batting those fake lashes sort of Charlie’s the main course meal. He’s not interested to become an instant father yet to two of her sons who are rumored psychopaths and pedophiles anyway. He couldn’t imagine himself laughing along with Rabastan in the sitting room whose cackles remind him strongly of a mad axeman.

Nope, that’s not where he’s going… not now, not ever!

Thank goodness, Charlie is a charmer. He managed to slide his way out of her grasp by making her leave – with Bill’s help _(I owe you one, brother)_ of course, who worked his own magic on the countess by asking her to go for a dance, complimenting her exquisite taste on fuzzy hairstyles in a gentlemanly manner.

-·-

Then, the twins came in next.

“Charlus!!!” They chorused.

His day is officially ruined. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? You, scoundrels!” he yelled.

“Plenty.” Two identical boys remorselessly flung their arms around his neck.

“That’s why we love calling you that –”

“– You hate it to the gut.”

Charlie fought the urge not to crease his temples. “What do you want?” He snarled. It’s his polite way of telling them, _‘bugger off, you twats!’_

“Whoa! Easy there, lover boy.” George appeases by adding insult to his injuries instead of comforting the lonely prince. Just like their usual way of conversing with someone other than themselves, they were talking to him in alternates.

“We just wanted to congratulate you…”

“For winning…”

“The ‘Most sought after Prewett of the year’ award.”

“You are so charming…”

“… and handsome.”

“… that people of all ages,”

“… wanted to have a piece of your cock.”

“I’d just have to say…”

“… be careful with Madam Lestrange.”

“We heard that…”

“She owns a strap-on ‘dickasaur’ in her house.”

It felt like watching a racquetball match as they speak. Charlie’s eyes widened after hearing the twins’ gossiping the lady.

If or whatever type of dinosaur stuff these boys are talking about, he was badly hoping it wasn’t any of those weird things he saw in one of the ‘pleasure shops’ his brothers owned when he once paid them a visit.

“Oh, boys. Have mercy on my soul.” He pleaded. “I think I have to renew my pilgrimage in the monastery in a couple of months.” He yowled. Charlie never thought his brain had been corrupted until today.

“Aw, Charlie boy. Don’t worry. We’ll be sending you letters.”

“… and packages.”

“Nope, I’m good,” he droned. “Thanks for lifting me up, though.” That wasn’t serious.

“By the way, where’s Harry?”

The man wrenched his gaze at them in a nippy. “Since when did he became ‘Harry’ to you both?”

“Err… a couple of days ago?”

“You know…”

“That day you didn’t show up in your meeting place.”

“You promised to keep him company while going to the village.”

“But something came up.”

“… and you were sooo worried he’ll get mad at you.”

“That you persuaded us…”

“Your ever gorgeous…”

“… and ever helpful little brothers.”

“… to spend the afternoon with him on your behalf.”

“We’ve become best of friends since then.”

“And are open for a wider relationship in the few more years to come.”

Both boys now have their arms slung across their brother’s shoulders wearing evilly smug grins across their faces.

“Stay away from him.” He warned them like a protective mother hen.

“What? But why?!”

“I don’t want you corrupting him. He’s just a kid!”

Both boys start acting whiny before their older brother. “Aww, come on, Charlie. Cut us some slack, will you?”

“We just want to be friends with him.”

“That’s all.”

“Honest.”

“I don’t trust the two of you.” He insisted. Not too long, the expression on his face softens. “Seriously, guys. If you want to be friends with him, please, be careful. He’s quite vulnerable. He doesn’t show it a lot. But he’s gone through a lot.”

“Of course, we will.”

“What do you take us for?”

Charlie’s gaze narrowed. “Get out of my sight, you bastards!”

Two red-heads acting like monkeys jumped menacingly out of the dais. They left a tutting Charlie who thought the stress he felt had doubled.

Well, his frustrations had actually worsened. Up until now, he hadn’t spotted anyone yet with messy black hair wearing round rimmed glasses no matter where he turns his gaze.

His face had gone somber.

“Hey, Charlie. What’s with the long face?”

_Huh???_

The guy looked up. He saw his youngest brother smiling walking toward him. With a height of six feet and two inches, he’s the tallest among the red-heads.

“Ron! You made it.” Charlie exclaimed happily. “When did you arrive?”

“Just this morning.”

“Aren’t you tired from the long trip? How was France?”

“It was fine. I managed to get a few hours of sleep before coming here.” He said casually.

“How’s Hermione?” Charlie meant France’s minister of foreign affairs. The youngest woman to hold the position in a century. His brother’s fiancé.

“She’s fine.” Ron shrugged. “She had been busy in a couple of weeks. Her schedule was bloody hectic, see. Although she made it up in the weekend. Then, we both went to Normandy for a holiday.”

The man’s brow’s slightly furrowed. Normally, these two getting into situations as the one he had mentioned always ends up into trouble.

“And then? How are the two of you going now?” He didn’t bother hiding his doubts.

“What do you mean?” Ron seemed confused. “Of course, we’re doing fine.”

“That sounds reassuring.” He quipped.

“Git.” His brother hissed.

“Seriously, Ron. Sometimes, I wonder how the both of you could work it out. That and despite the differences you two have.” Charlie took a flute of champagne from the platter he was offered by one of the servers.

It’s a mystery for them. Ron and his girlfriend are like fire and ice. The lady minister is a woman of books while Prince Ronald has a distinct hatred against libraries. She’s a disciple of progressive development while his little brother is a traditionalist. She has a ridiculous obsession on orderliness while Ron is an idiot. They had a lot of things they couldn’t agree up on even the tiniest matter that doesn’t require anybody’s attention.

“I dunno, really.” The boy admitted. “I guess it all ends to us both resolving our issues together. One thing I’m very sure of was that we have deep feelings for each other and it serves as our life raft the whole time.”

Charlie stares across the room in random. He was lost in deep thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder: how does it feel to have someone who loves you and who’s willing to accept everything about you despite being different?

His reverie was cut short the moment Kingsley butts in to their conversation. He seems worried about something going on.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your highness, we have a situation in the reception room.” He mumbled in earshot. “Lord Malfoy’s heir is throwing a fit.”

“Again?” Charlie snorted. He caught his high adviser rolling his eyes. Of course, Kingsley knows it well how big a disaster that Draco Malfoy could create once his tantrums decide to get into his head.

“What’s his issue this time?”

“He wants to be the first on your dance list tonight.”

Charlie heaved out a sigh. He silently muttered, “prat”, under his breath and then, added, “he can try. That’s until I get bored here waiting and turn in early for the night.”

Of all the annoying suitors he has, Heir Malfoy must’ve been the worst of them lot. A spoiled git who thought the world was promised to him when he was born. Lashing out each time his simple demands are being turned down.

His high adviser seems problematic. “He’s harassing our receptionists.”

“Where’s the father?”

“We already sent someone to fetch him.”

“Good. I want that git out in twenty minutes.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

The young prince’s eyes could only turn to Bill who was looking at him. His face filled with understanding. With a shake of his head, he gave his brother a reassuring grin.

Indeed, Charlie has plenty of reasons to hate going out to parties like this.

-·-

“Lord Riddle. Fancy seeing you here.” An elegant voice from a blonde aristocrat has caught the attention of the Grand Duke of Hanover. He was greeted by a tall man who had a pale, pointed face, long hair and cold grey eyes. He carries with him a walking stick with a snake head made of fine ivory.

“Lord Malfoy.”

“I didn’t expect the future Emperor of Saxony would be present in the second prince’s betrothal party.” The man commented with brows raised. Curiosity streaks on his elegant face.

The Archduke’s eyes narrowed over his friend’s remark. “I have some business to discuss with the king a few days from now.” He replied. “Arthur thinks it’s a shame to miss this big event. Though I wouldn’t say meeting the young Prince, Charles Weasley isn’t a bad idea at all.” A slight curve had twitched at the corner of his lips resembling a familiar evil smirk.

“Indeed. How fitting for both kingdoms to strengthen alliances as powerful as possible than by means of marriage.” Not a flick of emotion could be sensed in his tone the way he said it, a typical tactic from a high-society man to put his mask on hiding whatever needs to be kept into the unknown.

“Good times could never last, Lucius and one of the things one could do is to find all means in keeping everything in their places, that is to seal the bond between two reigning kingdoms.” He explained in a meaningful monologue.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He drawled. Lucius is a champion of the lore of politics. One look at the man and he immediately read through the cards he had laid. Though he chose to remain silent about it. The Archduke has the strongest influence in the confederation of imperial states. No one would wish to be on his bad side. Lucius knew better than step his toe out of the line.

It wasn’t kept from every nobleman’s knowledge about the Archduke’s interests toward the young Weasley Princes. Lord Riddle was one of the loudest personalities who opened a betrothal contract for the two oldest heirs. However, by absolution due to a sealed peace treaty made with the Franks, William was engaged to the daughter of the King of France. That leaves the second oldest Weasley boy in the ranks, a valiant hunter who is sought after the most powerful nations in the Western Uropean Lands.

For ages, the treaty of peace between both kingdoms has been hanging on a thin line. Though many amongst the nobles including Lord Malfoy believed that it wouldn’t be long until it ends to a decline. Thus, further measures have to be taken into their hands.

The interruption of an approaching constable marked the queue for their short meeting to adjourn. The man curtsied to both gentlemen and then whispers a few words in the Aristocrat’s ear. The strike of horrified reaction registering on his eyes was caught by the other man long before he could hide it with his mask. Lucius nodded and whispered back, telling him he’d follow suit before turning to face the Archduke.

“I hope you’d enjoy your stay, Lord Riddle. If you’d welcome a cup of tea in my house, send me a word and I’ll make some arrangements.”

“That would be much appreciated. I’d like to see the new vineyard Avery had informed me about.” The man simpered. “I’ll send an envoy in a couple of days.”

The Malfoy Lord nodded and exited the ballroom muttering mentally to himself about dragging a prat home before he could destroy the entire hall.

A new glass of wine was offered which the man graciously accepted. Lord Riddle followed the retiring blonde with his gaze and then shifts his eyes toward the young prince who was standing stiffly on the dais.

The man couldn’t say he has a close relationship with the royal family. He’d say it would be more of a truce than the reality. Regardless, the archduke plays a huge role in the land’s prosperity and all. What is a little favor to ask, after all?

Though at some point, he knew he has to do it in a subtle way for several reasons as such that the Prewetts and the Weasleys are honorable people. They don’t get easily swayed on bribes or threats. Be that as it may, it doesn’t mean he couldn’t make one fine attempt.

Lord Riddle is a proud man with the wealth and glory flowing along his path. He may not be young but he’s not too old. He was tall and handsome, with a pale skin, jet black hair and dark eyes. He was on top of the most eligible bachelors in the modern world, though he wouldn’t be keeping it that way for too long.

In a later time, he was joined by a portly little man with rumpled grey hair wearing a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie and an intricate-looking cloak. “Your majesty.” He says in a startled voice.

“Yes, Cornelius?” he didn’t bother calling the Viscount by his title out of the little respect he has for the old man. “How are things going in the inner circle?” the archduke’s voice was cold that sent chills to the spine of the person he was talking to.

The frightened emissary pulled a handkerchief in his trousers and uses it to wipe the sweat that was forming on his neck. “We tried to persuade the royal custodian. They couldn’t give us an accurate time for the appointment,” he said.

“It’s been two hours and still, nothing happens. When is the brat planning to step down to speak with the guests? Or more importantly, with myself!” He hissed.

The trembling in the Viscount’s hoarse voice is getting clearer by the minute. “We are trying to convince him, your majesty but the boy is stubborn. The child has a sheer distaste against social gatherings and anything related to politics. To be honest, Lord Riddle, the boy would rather spend his entire life wandering around with Gypsies than one could find him living a day in the palace. Even his mother was persuading him to go down and mingle with the guests and was unsuccessful.”

The archduke leaned his back against the couch where he was seated. His patience running out. “Cornelius, I’m a man who has little regard for excuses. You know that. And I trust you’d be aware of the little agreement we had, or should I remind you about it sooner?”

The old man shakes his head. His eyes frozen in fear.

“You don’t like it when I’m upset, Cornelius. I don’t give a damn how by any means you are going to make arrangements for myself and that bloody impertinent brat to come down the dais and meet his future acquaintance. Bring him to me this instant! Do you understand?”

The Viscount had no choice but to nod. He was glad to be dismissed and hurries out of the parlor to flee for dear life. “I’ll do the best that I can.” He reassured the man before making an exit.

Lord Riddle stared lustfully at the youth standing stubbornly on the stage. He’s not the type of a man who would prefer romance over pride and name but the young Weasley Prince possess all personality he is looking for a mate. Not for too long, he will join him in his personal quarters and ravish him senseless. Exploiting the glory of his youth like the holy grail can offer.

Most importantly, his involvement in the royal family circle will be of big help in times of war. Something he has in mind for quite years now.

“Mmm… this one tastes good.” He murmured after savoring the exquisite wine served to him for the third while relishing the sight of Prince Charles from a short distance thinking how the man would look naked, hands tied on his own bed.

-·-

Two hours had passed and the prince remained standing stiffly on the dais. Charlie was staring dejectedly at the gigantic grandfather clock. He’s been fighting the urge to leave and take a rest now. The strange sadness he felt in his chest is getting unbearable as it takes a while.

The last one to greet him from his family was his youngest sister who steps in smiling brightly at the mere sight of him. That smirk on her sweet pouty lips seemed remarkably suspicious. “Hey there, big brother Charlie. How’s it going? Seen any interesting birds or blokes yet?” She says in a mocking tone.

“Hi, Ginny. I regret to say, not yet.” He sighed while ignoring a group of ladies trying to get his attention in one corner.

“How’s that even hard?” She asked him, her brows furrowed. “All you have to do is narrow down your options.”

“Narrow what?”

They knew about Charlie swinging both ways. Not that they’ve heard or ever seen him being involved with anyone out there but the news had been sent out to the public and the young man never even bothered denying it. So, they just assumed it as the truth and didn’t mind more about it.

Ginny gave him a perusing look, “yeah? Just decide which between both is more preferrable to you. A girl? Or a boy? Then, you can take the rest from there.” She looked around, “Blimey, with all these people… you look like you are sold for auction.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. He hates to agree with her but she’s absolutely right. “Blame mum for it.” He sputtered.

The young teenager giggled. Ginny stayed with him for another half an hour to help him with his predicament. She makes him observe some of the women’s busts and a few bulges showing on the men’s fronts and then made him think which between these two genders stimulated him the best.

Charlie didn’t think it was a good idea but he was amused to listen and watch his sister making comments about every woman her eyes would lay upon and then makes some lewd and inappropriate compliments on men and their massive genitals. Charlie stared at her wide-eyed until he was compelled to scold her, reminding her to keep her grace intact until she grows a little older.

“Nah, just follow your heart, Charlie.” Ginny told him finally. “Whoever you choose to be with for the rest of your life, make sure he is someone you can share your happiness with the whole time.” Smiling, she hugged him and kissed her brother on the cheek before leaving the dais to find her friends, Luna and Neville.

Bill returns to his side shortly after. He noticed his sour mood. “You okay?” he asked, stating the obvious.

“M’fine.” Charlie lied.

“Again, no pressure, mate but I thought you ought to know. Mum’s getting more frustrated.” He discretely mumbles his words for only his brother to hear and then gestures toward the direction of their parents who looked worried despite the smile they wore on their faces.

“Bill, I’m not stepping down this platform until fate sends in the very person I want to dance with.” He insisted. “Maybe you can help me pray for a miracle to happen before all else fails, eh?”

Their conversation was halted when the first sign of disruption comes in. Both men turned to face the center of the hall to see what’s happening. Music stops playing, people stopped talking, silence filled the room as if a ghost has stepped in.

Then, all of a sudden, the massive doors were pushed open. A platoon of royal guards marched into the hall escorting a young man in ornate set of dress coats. All eyes are directed toward the boy. He wore an emerald green cape made of the finest quality of velvet with a lining of gold tassels on the edges that matched his ebony dress shirt. A stylish three-piece suit underneath it paired with a pair of black trousers of the same blend perfected his looks and a shiny, sparkling pair of pointed Oxford shoes that look suspiciously made of polished diamond adorned his foot.

The man, in fact, was handsome. He looked stunning beyond reasonable. His jet-black hair was perfectly trimmed combed into a neat sweep on the side giving him an elegant personage that outclassed every individual present in the palace.

“Damn! Who’s that young man?” Bill unintentionally moaned under his breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.” He added.

Neither did Charlie. Whoever that kid is, he must’ve come from a noble family judging the way he was thanking the guards for being nice and accommodating with that beautiful smile on his face as if it’s magic entrancing him while relishing the sight of the kid.

Oh… how he wished to become the reason for that smile.

The boy has practically stolen his heart because for some reason, there’s a wave of possessiveness growing inside him while observing the handsome stranger interacting with his men. It’s not their fault. The guards are honorable members of the Royal Court but he didn’t like the way they seem to have gotten drawn into him easily while they were talking.

Finally, it hit him. A new feeling started creeping inside Charlie.

Everyone turned to look at the second oldest prince. For the first time since that very evening, his mood has changed.

One of the things that makes the Royal family unique is their ability to read one’s body language. Which is why the moment Prince Charles Weasley II steps out of the stage storming his way toward the new guest, all of them hid a small smile on their faces knowing what’s about to happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... this came out faster than expected.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a wild thought that was a product of my imagination while plotting the next chapter for the Lord Potter Black Series and hell! I loved the outcome, better than the original story where it was based on.
> 
> I'm planning to limit it to only 6 chapters. That way, I can perfect its details to complete satisfaction.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it the way I wrote it.


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